A Line Is A Series Of Points
by TheoreticallyEva
Summary: A story speculating how EdWin came to be, why it still is, and why it will continue. Manga-based. Reviews are welcome, of course, and constructive criticism is not only appreciated, but encouraged. Rated T.
1. Prologue

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**I like to post my author's notes at the end; seems to me like they don't hinder the reading as much that way. Anyway, those interested in my thoughts on each "chapter" (if they're really long enough to be called such) will be able to read them after each chapter concludes. Those who don't care won't have to see my babblings before digging in. :P**

**But since is the first chapter that will be seen, I will say here that although this may be my first time posting fan fiction on this site, it's a far, far cry from my first time writing anything at all (I've been attempting to write seriously since I was ten! :P ), so I'm not going to pretend like I have any sensitivity to criticism. On the contrary—since I am truly interested in not only being a great writer, but an able analyst of other people's work, I would greatly appreciate constructive criticism of any sort, if anyone can think of any, as well as any differing opinions about the natures of the fascinating characters I am trying to pin down. That said, various circumstances in my life lately have prevented me from writing much over the past year, so I think I'm pretty rusty, and I _know_ this particular piece didn't turn out as well as I intended. So I'm _definitely_ hoping for some good reviews I can work with.**

**Flamers, however, will be ignored similarly to how I ignore my niece and nephew's temper tantrums until they realize that the only way they will get my attention is if they speak to me politely.  
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**I'm not sure why everybody insists on putting disclaimers on their writing because _obviously_ the characters don't belong to them. Nevertheless, just to be safe.... –disclaims-**

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**Prologue**

"You _what_?!" Alphonse exclaimed, his voice reverberating slightly from within his metal armor.

Edward sighed and buried his head in his forearms. "I just walked away."

"Brother...." Al sat next to him against the wall of their hotel bedroom and let out a sigh as well. "Brother, you're an idiot."

"I know," Ed groaned.

They sat in silence for a while, each of them contemplating the extent of and possible solutions to Ed's most recent act of imbecility. Sometimes, one of them would make a sound as though they were about to speak, but they always let the words fall away.

At last, Ed asked him—or perhaps he was asking the opposite wall, or the space beyond it, or anyone who might know the answer....

"How did we get to this point anyway?"

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**.... Not really much in the way of an author's note, actually.... It's just the prologue. On to the good stuff.**


	2. Because She Was Kind

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**Author's note at the bottom. Here, at the top, consider the characters disclaimed.**

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**Because She Was Kind  
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The knocking on the door provoked the excited, high-pitched barks of a puppy, as well as the scraping and thudding sounds of her scurrying with her three legs in a desperate attempt to see who was at the door.

"Calm down, Den! You'll hurt yourself," they heard as heavy, confident footsteps neared them. The door swung open, and Pinako looked up with a grin. "Hohenheim! Trisha! Welcome!"

Hohenheim nodded as Trisha smiled widely. A tiny Edward and an even tinier Alphonse merely blinked familiarly at her. "Hello, Pinako!" Trisha greeted.

"Come in, come in!" Pinako urged, waving them inside. As the guests removed their shoes by the door, Pinako went into the kitchen. "Hohenheim and Trisha are here!"

"Oh!" Sara stood and hurried to the door, where Trisha set down Edward in order to properly hug her. "Trisha! It's been so long!"

"Four years!" Trisha agreed. "But you're finished with your medical training now, right?"

"Yes!" Sara grinned happily. Her husband, Pinako's son, appeared at her side to shake Hohenheim's hand, and she bowed in greeting to him. "And Hohenheim! It's so good to see you again, too!"

"Uh, thank you," Hohenheim replied, smiling kindly if a little awkwardly. "It has been a while. It's good to see you two came back safely."

"Did you enjoy Central?" Trisha queried as the two couples made their way to the kitchen to relax.

"We did! Central is buzzing with activity. There was always so much to do," Sara said, then smiled wistfully. "But we sure missed Resembool. It's so quiet and peaceful. This is really the place for us."

Trisha nodded, then gasped when she noticed the little blond toddler staring at them curiously from her chair at the kitchen table. The girl blinked when she noticed Trisha gaping at her.

"Is this little Winry?!" Trisha exclaimed. She rushed over and scooped the girl into her arms. "She's the most adorable little girl I've ever seen! And she's Edward's age, right?"

Sara nodded. "She turned three last month!"

From behind Hohenheim's legs, Edward frowned slightly as Alphonse cocked his head, observing. Hohenheim merely smiled genially.

"Sit down," Pinako ordered brusquely. "Supper will be ready soon."

"Oh, thank you!" Trisha set Winry back on her chair before taking her own. "Oh, I'm so happy we can all be together again." She turned to the doctors and clapped her hands together enthusiastically, Hohenheim's eyes warming as he watched her grin around. "I want to hear _everything_ about your training in Central!"

Winry stood on the chair with one finger in her mouth, watching the adults talk with wide sapphire eyes. Soon enough, however, she grew bored with being unable to understand everything they were saying, and she turned her attention toward the two little boys on either side of their mother, each resting a hand on her lap as though afraid of getting lost. The older one seemed always to be frowning and retained a focused watch around his immediate vicinity, while the other kept peering about, intent on closely observing everything around him, even if it was from his one safe spot.

She decided in that moment that she liked them.

She carefully climbed off the chair and toddled over to them. Edward jerked back slightly when she suddenly appeared before him, smiling. Alphonse noticed the jerk and looked to see what had surprised his brother; upon seeing Winry there, her face happy and welcoming, he smiled back.

It occurred to Winry that it would be nice to make the boys feel at home. She ran off to the other room and came back with one of her favorite bedtime books, handing it to Edward. Another venture into the other room turned up a stuffed dog doll, which she also bestowed upon Edward. Several more toys later—once both Edward and Alphonse had had to resort to using their entire arms' lengths to hold everything she'd given them—she deemed her work satisfactory and nodded to herself, hands propped victoriously on her hips. Trisha, who had been watching them, smiled softly but didn't interrupt.

"Let's play!" she exclaimed. She grabbed Edward's arm and then Alphonse's, dragging them into the other room and causing them to drop all her toys in the process.

It soon became apparent that Alphonse was more interested in Den than in the toys. He plopped down next to the resting puppy and fingered the place where her front left leg was supposed to be. Den's eyes studied him nonchalantly from their vantage point near the floor.

"That's Den," Winry explained authoritatively. "Granny found her. She lost her leg. Granny is gonna give her a new one soon."

Alphonse began babbling at Den. His two-year-old mind struggled to form words in a way that made them intelligible, but phrases such as "It's okay" and "I like you" were clear enough. He patted the puppy awkwardly with his untrained hand until her head came up slightly, curious and grateful for the attention. Edward watched with his arms folded, frown still very present, though softened.

Giggling, Winry threw her arms around Alphonse, nearly knocking him over. "Aww, you're nice!" She looked over at Edward, and her face broke out into a grin. "I like you guys! I think...." She considered for a moment, then nodded confidently. "I like you guys a lot."

For a while, Edward only watched as Winry and Alphonse petted and played with Den as much as they could while Den was crippled so. They giggled and squealed often, and Winry showed a gentleness toward Al that he responded to with enthusiasm. Although the sight of it at first made Edward feel protective and irritated that someone else would have the gall to be so friendly with _his_ brother, it soon gave way to a twinge of guilt for the times he had picked on Al out of frustration or jealousy or simply because he could, often incurring the irritation and sadness of Trisha. She wouldn't be upset by how Al was being treated _now_.

He found himself thinking that maybe he should be more like this little Winry person. Although the three-year-old boy still felt his loyalty was strictly limited to his mother, there was something about Winry's kindness that reminded him of her, and once his shy little frown had completely melted away, he finally joined them. And he found he liked her, too.

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**I think I sort of ended up basing toddler-aged Ed, Winry, and Al rather off of different (and honestly more well-behaved) aspects of my toddler-aged niece and nephew, who currently live at my house along with their mother (one of my sisters). When one is attempting to capture the minds of small children, it helps to have them running around at your feet all day long, I guess. XD**

**Also, is Den really a girl, or a boy? I've heard it both ways, and I'm a little bit too lazy to go perusing through the manga to find out myself. -.-;;**

**And I keep hearing that Winry's mother's name was Sara, but I haven't seen her father's name anywhere. Anybody know it? It was a bit awkward trying to write around it.**


	3. Because She Was So Frustrating

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**Author's note at the bottom. Here, at the top, consider everything disclaimed.**

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**Because She Was So Frustrating**

"Ed?" Winry's voice floated lightly along the slight spring breeze, and soon, she stood blinking before him as he sat against one wall of his house with the posture of a child who knows that an awful manner of sitting has become his last resort for rebellion. She held down her little apron with both hands to keep it from whapping her face as she bent to meet his eyes. "What are you doing there?"

Edward glared sullenly at her, drawing his knees up to his chest. When he didn't answer, Winry pursed her lips and jammed her fists into her hips, a movement to which Ed had already become accustomed to seeing, and demanded imperiously, "Are you in time-out again?"

At that, the fires of mortification rose from Edward's chest and into his face, and his glare turned sharper. "Mind your own business!"

"You were picking on Al again, weren't you?"

"Didn't I just tell you to mind your own business?!"

Winry sighed in exasperation. "What did you do this time?"

Ed looked away, brows furrowed. Even at this young age, Winry knew that getting him to talk about what happened would be like pulling teeth, and it simply wasn't worth the effort.

"You know," she said, perhaps a bit huffily, "you should really learn to be nicer to your brother. I mean, he _is_ your brother. And you are bad at liking people. You should really get better at that. My mom and dad say it's important to like _everyone_."

Ed started grinding his teeth, waiting for her to finish pushing buttons.

"Besides, Alphonse is a really nice boy! He's a lot nicer than _you_, that's for sure."

At that, Ed jumped to his feet and exclaimed, "What do _you _know?!"

Winry stepped back a little, surprised at his sudden vehemence, but soon fired back, "Well, what do _you_ know?"

"A LOT MORE THAN YOU!!"

"Oh, yeah?! What's the life equation, then?"

"Wha....?"

"C6 plus H12 plus O6—"

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"The life equation, dummy! I read about it in Mom and Dad's doctor books. See, you don't know _everything_."

"I didn't say _everything_, I just said I know more than _you_."

"But you didn't know the life equation!"

"_Who cares about the life equation_?!"

"Winry?"

Al's small, timid voice cut through the argument with a clarity that seemed to bring them both to their senses. Ed turned his back to his brother and resumed sulking silently as Winry sent Al an amiable smile.

"Al!" she greeted as she toddled over to him, reaching into the pocket of her apron. "Look! I brought you some chocolate."

The little boy took the candy from her with a mouth as wide as his eyes. "Wow! Thank you so much, Winry!"

Ed flipped his body back toward them, so quickly that he had to flail his arms around and land on his palms to keep from doing a face-plant. "_What_?! How come _he_ gets candy?!"

Winry stuck her tongue out at him. "I _was_ going to give you some, too, but you're being mean. To both Al _and_ me. So you don't get to have any," she finished with a tone of maternal authority beyond her age.

Edward shot her a dumbfounded, confused expression. She only rolled her eyes. With one grunt of childish rage, Ed plopped back onto the ground and threw his back against the wall to even worse posture than before. He watched Winry play with his little brother just that little distance away, enjoying their chocolate and playing true-or-false games with flower petals. They giggled rather shrilly and long over one of Al's flowers whose last plucked petal revealed that he would look good in polka-dot dress, and Ed tried to pretend he didn't find it funny, too. Winry encouraged Al to believe that he could look good in a lot of different kinds of clothes, especially when he grew big and strong. Al was delighted. Somehow, that only made Ed feel angrier, but he wasn't really sure why. Winry often made him rather angry, but not in a way that made him hate her. Just in a way that made him think. And that was the hardest part to understand.

Later that night, after Trisha had tucked the boys into bed and left to begin her own preparations for sleep, Al clambered out of his blankets and padded swiftly over to Ed. He held two pieces of chocolate under Ed's nose. Ed furrowed his eyebrows at them almost distastefully.

"What's that for?"

"Winry told me to save these for you," Al answered. "For later."

Tentatively, Ed scooped them up from Al's hands and popped them into his mouth. They melted on his tongue, making it water almost unbearably. The sweet taste somehow calmed his fiery mind, and he found himself settling deeper into his pillow.

"This is really good," he smiled.

Al nodded in agreement. "Winry is really nice. She makes me happy."

Long after Al had retreated back to his bed and fallen asleep, snoring slightly, Edward lay awake and wondering about what kind of book might have the "life equation" in it, and how good chocolate tastes. The next morning, when Trisha found Ed in the kitchen preparing a couple of slices of bread and cheese to bring to Al, she rewarded him by not prodding him about why he had a smear of chocolate on his lower lip.

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**I have noticed Winry as one of the few people who can make Ed truly pause and think, and she balances kindness with not going easy on him. I think he did the same to her. From my own experience from the first time I fell in love, I felt like I related to how frustrated they made each other because of those things, but it's the sort of frustration that comes with feeling a change in you that you haven't fully grasped and makes you a little uncomfortable because it's hard to accept, but you grudgingly find that you want it. I think that's where this came from.**

**Also, I used to know the life equation by heart. I distinctly remember using it on my younger brother at least a couple of times in a fit of brattiness when I was irritated with his arrogance. XD Then he got into middle school and started learning the same things I did, and I had to figure out other ways to intellectually best him. Ah, childhood. XD Anyway, I no longer actually have the life equation totally memorized, though it remains vaguely present in my mind…. Alas.**

**I think Winry is generally a very kind person, but she has her bratty moments, too.**

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	4. Because She Was Like Sunshine

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**Author's note at the bottom. Here, at the top, considering everything disclaimed.**

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**Because She Was Like Sunshine**

Trisha cried far more often lately. She never did so while the boys were in the same room, but sometimes, when they were scampering toward where they knew she was, they would hear her sniffle and stop dead in their tracks, listening. Then they would sit where they were, wondering, no longer smiling. Edward would often ball up his fists and tug at his pants. They would wait until the tears stopped before they would enter the room to be with her, perhaps show her their latest alchemy project or offer her some of the berries they had picked.

She cried so much. They learned to hate it. And they learned to hate not understanding why she had to do it.

They could always find solace in Winry. She was ever cheerful and full of energy, keeping Ed in line and Alphonse smiling. Whenever they would play together, there was nothing of hers that they couldn't have (although, of course, Trisha always made sure they gave it back after they were done). When they were bored or in danger of their thoughts wandering toward the confusion and frustration they felt about their father's absence, she would often be the one to come up with a great idea to pass the time. For years, she had been their relief, their loyal friend, their sunshine.

So when they went to visit her one day to find her wailing and stomping and kicking and screaming and eventually even hiccupping, they could hardly bring themselves to speak. It felt like the sun she had provided them had come crashing down and set the world on fire before it died out and left everything cold.

"Mom and Dad are dead!" she yelled at them. "They're dead! Do you know what that means?!" They stood there confusedly, not because they didn't know what it meant, but because they didn't understand how it could have happened to Winry. "They're dead! They're dead and they're never coming back! They were gone for such a long time! They promised they would be back! They _promised_! _But they're never coming back_!!"

Any attempt at trying to console her was met with a scream and sometimes a slap on the offered arm. Pinako only watched grimly, as Winry scrambled violently out of her arms whenever she tried to hold her. At length, the boys fled.

Now it was their turn. They ran to their mother's apron and wept. When she heard about the cause of their distress, she, too, found herself shedding tears, and she ran her hands through their hair until they quieted. Later that night, when she thought they were asleep, they heard her cry again. Sometimes they looked over at each other, silently affirming that they were both feeling the same pain and sense of uncertainty.

They hated crying. By association, they hated everything that caused it.

And they resolved that the people they loved should never have to cry again. Somehow, they would bring that sunshine back.

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**I don't think I have much to say about this one. I still like the concept, but I felt the execution was rather off. I probably like this one the least. Nevertheless, I think it's an important aspect of their relationship, as well as an important development in the way the boys think.**


	5. Because She Deserved To Be Happy

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**Author's note at the bottom. Here, at the top, consider everything disclaimed.**

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**Because She Deserved To Be Happy**

After the death of her parents, Winry took some time to return to her usual cheerful self. But she was never quite the same as before. Sometimes, she went off to be alone and refused their company; other times, she would cling to their clothes if it seemed like they were about to run away from her. The boys didn't mind—even if Edward feigned irritation at times—but they wanted to understand what had happened to her.

"Why did they die?" they asked Trisha during dinner one night. Trisha paused in the middle of raising her cup to her lips and gazed at her sad reflection in the tea for a moment.

"It's hard to answer such questions," she finally replied. "I'm not sure anyone really knows why someone dies when they do. But I'm sure"—and here, she gave them a gentle, knowing smile that they would always remember—"that they would have wanted to die together."

Edward's eyes widened as his brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Well," Trisha calmly lifted a forkful of food to her mouth. "They loved each other very much. When people are in love like that, they devote much of their lives toward making each other happy. Once that person is gone, they still want to be with them, so...."

She trailed off. Her smile ultimately stayed, but neither Ed nor Al failed to notice its trembling falter. They glanced at each other, but neither of them found they wanted to ask anything about whether she would follow their father like that. Instead, Ed moved his food around on his plate a little before asking, "What does that mean—'devote'? How do people do that?"

Trisha thought for a moment. "Well, when it comes to people being in love, it often means they get married."

"Married?" Al repeated, mulling over the word. His mind analyzed the other adults he knew who had mentioned being "married" to someone. "Does that mean.... being together all the time?"

Trisha smiled in amusement. "Something like that."

"Are we married, then?" Al asked, eyes innocent and completely serious.

Trisha had to cover her mouth to keep from spitting out her food when she started laughing. "No, no, it's not _that_ simple."

"Then what does it mean?" Al asked, perplexed, and Ed's eyes narrowed as he struggled to figure it out in his own mind.

"Marriage is for people who want to work as partners to build a life together," Trisha explained carefully. "First, they have to agree on it, and then they make a promise to do it together for the rest of their lives. Oftentimes, they have children, like your dad and I had you."

"And they devote themselves to all of that?" Al cocked his head.

"Yes," Trisha nodded. "To happiness, and to building and continuing life, together."

The boys gave themselves a moment to let her explanation sink in, exchanging thoughtful glances.

"Does Dad devote himself to making you happy?" Ed grumbled, scowling at his plate.

And she smiled again.

Some time later, Ed and Al lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was a silent, warm night. Both brothers knew the other was awake. It was Al who at last vocally acknowledged it.

"Brother?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember when Winry was crying?"

".... Yeah."

"I didn't like it."

"Me, either."

"I want her to be happy."

"Me, too.

"I think I'll marry her."

"Me—wait, _what_?" Ed flipped onto his side to stare at his brother, eyes round with indignant surprise.

Al turned his head to give him a matter-of-fact expression, the very picture of sensibility. "Well, she's so nice to me, and she's so much fun. I want to make her happy, so I think I'll marry her."

Edward's mouth hung open as his mind tried to find the words he wanted for his response. At last, he exclaimed, "But _I _want to make Winry happy, too! It's not fair for just you to marry her!"

Al considered this. "Well, maybe we can _both_ marry her."

Ed stuttered, "Wh.... Bu.... N-No! We can't _both_ marry her."

"Why not?" Alphonse asked, blinking at him.

"I.... I don't—_Because_!" Ed finished lamely if somewhat ardently, plopping back onto his pillow and crossing his arms stubbornly.

"You just want her all to yourself!" Al pouted.

Edward spluttered a bit more but was unable to really formulate a reply. Alphonse grew very annoyed.

"I'm going to marry Winry, Brother, and that's it!"

"No, you're not!" Ed fired back.

"Yes, I am!"

"Are not!"

"Am, too!"

"No, you're _not!_"

"Yes, I _am_!"

At this, Edward threw back his covers and faced Alphonse's bed, fists tight and mouth turned down in a firm, pugnacious frown. Al took the challenge immediately and engaged his brother in a wrestling match. They rolled about and punched and kicked each other until Ed's head hit a dresser drawer. He yelped and held the spot on his head that had been bumped, giving up the struggle and biting his lip as he tried hard not to let tears roll down his cheeks, the stinging sensation screaming through his brain. Al stood and nodded grandly, then wordlessly climbed back into his bed. After some time, Ed returned to his own, and they fell asleep without saying another word to each other.

The following morning saw Ed, Al, and Winry at school. Having finished their lunches early, they had abandoned the crowd of other students to talk and play beneath a nearby oak tree. Winry, however, noticed that Ed seemed especially withdrawn, as he sat on the other side of the tree while she and Al discussed the quality of the doll her mother handmade for her. During a lull in conversation, Winry crawled over to where Edward sulked, blinking curiously at him.

"What's the matter, Ed?" she asked. His expression only became more sour when he turned to stare into her round face outlined by light gold strands, deep blue eyes completely focused on him. When he didn't answer for lack of being able to untie his tongue, she smiled hopefully and handed her doll to him. "Do you like my doll? Would you like to play with her?"

Ed's face suddenly flushed bright red. He stood and threw the doll back at her, sauntering away as he exclaimed, "_No, I don't want to play with any of your stupid things ever again_!"

"E-Ed!" Winry cried. "What's wrong? You're so mean!"

The offending boy declined to answer, instead continuing his grand stomping toward no direction in particular. After angrily throwing a stick that made hardly noticeable contact with his shoulder, Winry watched after him, looking as though she might burst into tears. Al patted her on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry, Winry. I'm going to marry you someday, so I'll make you happy all the time."

Hearing this, Edward stopped, then leaned against the nearby fence and crossed his arms, keeping his piercing gaze on the other kids and pretending he wasn't listening to his friends.

Meanwhile, Winry returned Al's assurance with a look of surprise. "Marry me?"

Al nodded confidently.

Winry put a finger against her chin thoughtfully. "But…. I don't want to marry you."

Ed's ears almost visibly pricked as Al blinked confusedly. "Y-You don't? Why not?"

"Well," Winry looked toward the sky, finger still resting on her chin. "I guess I don't want to marry a boy who's shorter than me."

Neither of them noticed the sound of Ed falling to the ground and hitting his head against the fence.

"Oh," Alphonse said, shoulders slumping. A few moments of silence passed between him and Winry, the former considering as the other stared unapologetically at him, awaiting his reaction. At last, he shrugged, leaned against the tree, and said, "Well, okay, then."

After a while, once Edward had resolved to completely erase this entire ordeal from his mind, he returned to his brother and friend beneath the tree. But he never again showed an interest in the little girl's toys.

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**I might have giggled too much writing some parts of this one. XD**

**I don't want to come right out and say why I think he wouldn't want to play with her toys anymore and what that grew into, but kudos to anyone who can guess it, and extra kudos to anyone who can offer a different take on it. This is only my educated guess. **


	6. Because She Understood

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**Author's note at the bottom. Here, at the top, consider everything disclaimed.**

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**Because She Understood**

"You weren't paying attention at all, were you?"

The boys jumped in their seats a little at the sound of Winry's voice abruptly invading their bubble. Upon looking around them, they noticed all the other students standing up and leaving to go home. They hurriedly closed their alchemy books and tried to appear nonchalant.

"Of _course_ we were paying attention," Edward scoffed.

Winry rolled her eyes. "You were reading those alchemy books all through math class again. Don't you know math is important?"

"Easy for you to say," Ed scowled. "You _like_ math."

"Because it's important!" Winry replied, trying to hide her impatience. Then she sighed. "Sometimes, I think you two are hopeless."

Ed snorted. Al had the decency to cast Winry a slightly embarrassed expression.

As they began their trek toward home, Ed and Al slowly and unconsciously began to walk a little ahead of Winry, talking quietly between themselves. After some time of enduring this, Winry frowned and raised her voice above theirs.

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what you two are planning yet?"

Al turned to give Winry a kinder answer in the negative, but Ed beat him to the punch with his blunt, "Not a chance."

"Look," Winry said as she picked up her pace until she was beside them again. "I keep helping you out in school because you don't pay attention. It's not fair that you don't tell me what you're working on."

Ed rolled his eyes, exasperated. "It's a _secret_, Winry."

"It really is," Al added with a touch of apology in his tone.

"Besides," Ed continued huffily, "math, for instance, is easy. I don't _need_ to pay attention."

"Oh, yeah?" Winry challenged. "So what's a line?"

"A line?"

"Yeah, what's a line?"

Ed furrowed his eyebrows. "That's a stupid question. A line is a line. It's straight."

Winry shook her head, light blond hair whapping against her face. "Nope!"

Ed felt his impatience boiling in his blood. "All right, then, if you're so smart, what is it?"

"It's a series of points," Winry responded, her chin tilting only slightly. Before Ed could go off on a tirade about what stupid definition that was, she plowed on. "And a ray is a line with one point on one end, and a segment as points on both ends."

"Oh," Al contemplated for a moment. "So rays and segments have endings?"

"Mmmhmm," Winry affirmed. "Lines stretch on forever." She shot Ed a quick glare and continued in a slightly sing-song tone. "You would know that if you'd been paying attention."

"_Whatever_!" Ed burst. "Would you stop acting like you know so much? You don't know how important this is to us!"

Winry clenched her fists and opened her mouth to retort, but she stopped as she noticed the gleam in Ed's eyes. Before the tears could fall, though, he whirled around and ran. Alphonse, with a sigh and a hurried goodbye, followed suit. Winry stood there for a while, staring at their house long after they had gone inside and out of her sight.

It was a few hours later that the boys heard a knock at their front door. Since Alphonse was occupied in the bathroom, Ed ran down the hall from his bedroom and opened the door in one swift movement. He frowned at the sight of a firm-mouthed Winry standing on the porch, meeting his gaze levelly. Sighing, he leaned one arm against the doorframe. "What is it?"

Wordlessly, she showed him what was in her hand—a small black binder. When he simply stared at it questioningly, she urged, "Here. Take it."

Obediently, he picked it up and thumbed through it. Notes. Notes about history, art, language, science, and math. All written with bold, dark letters that looped in girlish curves.

"Aren't these yours?" he asked skeptically.

Winry nodded. "They're copies of what I wrote today. They're for you and Al to use."

"Oh," Ed suddenly looked away from her eyes awkwardly. "Thanks."

Winry then shifted her feet—somewhat coyly, Edward noted—and added, "And Granny says dinner is ready, so you should come and eat."

"Oh," Ed's face brightened slightly. "Okay. Al and I will be over in a minute. He's in the bathroom."

Winry smiled widely, relieved, and nodded. Then she jumped off the porch and scampered back to her house. Edward closed the door and made his way back to his room, flipping through the pages in the binder. Before going to deliver the news to Alphonse, he set it atop his bed, open to the page where the math notes began, where the first bullet read, "Line = endless series of points. Goes straight on forever."

And Ed and Al found they were rather grateful to have something to tell Granny when she asked them what they learned in school that day.

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**Oddly enough, this is the very last part I wrote, and I only came up with it after I had decided on a title (coming up titles is such a perplexing process for me). But now I'm quite pleased with it. Who says math doesn't apply to real life? :3 Ah! I love metaphors!**


	7. Because She Gives Everything She Has

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**Author's note at the bottom. Here, at the top, consider everything disclaimed.**

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**Because She Gives Everything She Has  
**

"You're really leaving now?"

Twelve-year-old Edward looked over his shoulder to see Winry standing in the doorway of the bedroom he shared with Al, her eyes so resignedly sad it made his heart lurch. It made him forget being angry with her for throwing a wrench at him again earlier—she had gotten into a habit of doing that lately, especially whenever he sparred too much with Al, pushed his recovery process too hard, spoke too flippantly about his impending journey, or otherwise annoyed her, and he had begun wondering if it was going to become a regular occurrence. But after solemnly taking in her currently wrench-less, forlorn frame in his doorway, he found himself thinking he could probably handle wrenches being thrown at him if he had to. He turned his attention back to the bag he was repacking for the seventh time, figuring out what else he could live without to make extensive traveling easier.

"Yeah."

She didn't say anything else. Once he had a found a place in his bag for each of his few belongings, Ed turned again to see her staring at the floor, eyes watering up. He frowned guiltily, then studied the automail arm for which he'd vomited up pounds of blood to become proficient with over the past year. He flexed his cold steel fingers and suppressed a sigh.

"We have to go," he said simply. "You know that."

She shut her eyes tightly, trying to chase the tears away. When she looked at him again, she was forcing a smile. "I'll always be here for you, you know. I'll do everything I can to help. I'll be the best mechanic you ever had!"

Ed blinked slowly, not looking at her. "You don't have to do that, you know."

Winry shrugged and smiled. "Seeing how determined you are makes me want to be determined, too. I think what you're doing is amazing, Ed. I want to be like that, too."

Ed widened his eyes at her. "You want to be like _me_?"

"Well," Winry laughed, "in that way, yeah. I really do think it's amazing."

Turning to pick up his bag (and thus effectively hiding his flushed cheeks from her), Ed muttered tersely, "Honestly, you're so weird._"_

She continued, trying to conceal her desire to plead, unsure if it was working. "Write us and call us and please, _please_ come over as much as you can. And be safe. And promise you'll come back."

Ed acknowledged her request with a smile and a nod. "I promise. Thanks for everything, Winry."

After taking one last fleeting chance to memorize her face, he casually adjusted the bag on his shoulder strode out of the room. After a moment, Winry followed.

"And Ed—!"

Ed pivoted and gave her a questioning look. With only a hint of blush on her cheeks, Winry determinedly held out her hands to him. He studied what they held.

"Money?" he asked incredulously.

She nodded. "It's everything I have. I just want to make sure you get a good start."

Ed shook his head and tried to press her fingers to her palms. "Winry, I can't take that."

"I'm not asking," Winry huffed, and she stuffed the money into Ed's pocket.

"H-Hey!" Ed exclaimed. "You can't just go around stuffing things in people's pockets!"

"You're not _people_," she replied firmly. "You're _Ed_." Ed frowned at that and made to take the money out of his pocket, but Winry shook a finger in his face. "If you try and give that back, I'll throw another wrench at you!"

At first, Edward opened his mouth to protest further, but upon noting the moisture gathering in her eyes, he couldn't seem to help but back down.

It was as they walked away from the home Winry would continue to share with her grandmother that she actually began to cry. She gasped slightly and heaved her lungs with the effort of breathing while feeling like she was drowning.

Ed glanced back only once, and he saw her tears. It occurred to him that he hadn't seen her cry since her parents had died. Fighting away whatever urges he had left that made him want to stay, he turned his attention back to the road ahead of him and his brother.

Meanwhile, the sun sank into the horizon.

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**I've always loved how Winry would completely throw herself into anything she was passionate about, even if her tendency to beat herself up about things was almost as bad as Ed's. I think it's an important trait they have in common, and their different ways of using that characteristic complemented each other.**

**Nevertheless, I'm not sure I did a good job with the characterization in this one. It grates at me a little. It's not right. I hope I'll figure out how to fix it up soon.**


	8. Because She Wouldn't Run And Hide

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**Okay, this time, I have to say something at the beginning. For the purposes of this story of mine, I am pretending like the battle of the Promised Day has been extended to last more than that one day, and Ed got a bit beat up, and Winry showed up in Central to help again. I don't actually think that's what will happen—and in fact, I really don't think it _should_ happen this way—but this is just pretending. Just for my sake. Just for a second. –flashes artistic license, hides expiration date-**

**As always, I claim nothing that isn't mine, which is.... almost everything in the world. Heh. Including FMA, of course.  
**

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**Because She Wouldn't Run And Hide**

A lot happened after Edward and Alphonse left on their journey—much more than they had ever anticipated. They faced dangers they never knew existed, and Winry had been targeted more than once. In the midst of it all, each of them had realized their feelings about each other, but each had kept the words to themselves, and even most of the actions, settling with denials and scratched surfaces.

But one night in Central, as Edward sat tiredly slumping over on a stool and watching Winry go about her preparations to fix his automail yet again, he sighed inwardly. After having her well-being threatened by Fuhrer Bradley and then having to entrust her life to Scar—and after having Lieutenant Hawkeye so _ruthlessly_ reveal his secret to himself that night when he asked her about Ishbal—he found himself thinking more often of how much sadder the world would be if there wasn't a kind, spirited, intelligent blond girl using her talents to better the world around her—and even using her wrench as an instrument of justice against the wicked, he added, smirking in spite of himself. He watched how the lamps in the room couldn't stop the shadows of the night from obscuring parts of her face and body as she worked, and he found himself realizing that he didn't like that. He didn't want it. He didn't like her in shadow, he didn't like her in obscurity, he didn't like that it looked like some part of her wasn't there.

"Winry," he called quietly.

"Hm?"

"I want to ask you again," he continued. "Take Granny and Den and get out of the country. Go somewhere safe."

He saw her reach for a wrench, and he braced himself, but after a pause, Winry sighed deeply and shook her head. "We already discussed that, Ed," she said.

"Winry," he repeated, "please."

At last, she whirled around at stared at him, frowning ferociously. "We _discussed_ that, Ed. I'm not going anywhere."

"You keep getting in danger," Ed insisted. "I'm sick of it."

"_Why_ is it so okay for you and Al to be in constant danger, but never me?" Winry demanded impatiently.

Ed looked taken aback. "Th-That's different—"

"_How_?" Winry interrupted. "_How, _Ed?"

"We.... We're...." Ed stammered a bit and started to feel his blood boil. He got onto his feet and drew himself up to his full height. "We're risking our _lives_ to save you! Fine way to repay us by repeatedly putting yourself in danger!"

_Now _came the wrench. Edward managed to duck enough to ensure minimal damage, leaving only a bump rather than the usual bloody puncture.

"God_dammit_, Winry! _Why the hell are you always throwing wrenches_?!"

Winry had no answer to that. She turned around and tried to end the conversation by ignoring his attempts to continue it. Edward watched in frustrated consternation as she picked up nuts, bolts, and scraps and slammed them into different spots on the table. Her body moved fluidly even in her anger, never out of energy, always impassioned, always forcing something out of him that no one else could—an anger that ached, ached so beautifully and made him want to be something different than what he was. Grumbling, he reminded himself that she wasn't cute, sexy, or attractive in any way. Then he sighed heavily and scratched the back of his head furiously.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

"_Wrong_ with me?!"

That came out wrong. Edward shut his eyes and tried again. "What's the _matter_, Winry?"

"Dammit!" Another wrench; he managed to completely dodge it this time. He wondered how pathetic it was that he was really getting used to this. "You make me sick, Edward! You make me absolutely sick to my stomach!"

Ed's mouth dropped, and his gut stirred uncomfortably. "M-Me? Why?"

"Just stop acting like you care so much," she spat, then shut her mouth firmly. That wasn't fair to say, she knew—a hurtful exaggeration borne of her selfish desire to be cared for more than she already was—but it was already out, and she knew people can't just take those kinds of words back.

"What are you _talking_ about?" Ed was almost yelling now; somewhere in his heart, something was screaming and clawing, and it hurt. "If I didn't care, why would I be putting my life on the line to save this God-forsaken country? To save _you_?!"

"Not that again!" Winry rolled her eyes and turned to him again, eyes flaring. "Why can't you think of a better solution than to send us away?" Her fists clenched as she brought her face close enough to his that he could feel her hot breath. "We want to be _here_ for you, Ed! _I_ want to be here for you!"

"I don't _want_ you here if it means you're going to get _hurt_!" Ed exclaimed.

"Now you _listen_ to me, idiot," Winry shook her index finger at him. "Either we're _all _coming out of this safely, or I'm going down with you!"

"That's _stupid_!" Ed spat, face heating. "Don't you understand how important this is?! We're doing all of this so that you can _live_, not _die_!"

"_And what the hell makes you think I want to live without you_?!"

The words toppled out of her mouth and hung there, then seemed to evaporate and spread in the air around them. Edward stood staring at her with wide eyes, a "wh" sound occasionally escaping his throat, but never elaborated. All hints of malice disappeared from his eyebrows and chin.

Something in Winry's mind snapped, and she wondered whether she'd finally gone mad. She rubbed her forehead with a sardonic chuckle. When she noticed Ed reaching out to touch her, she jerked away. Abruptly, she whirled around and started moving around her automail equipment again, not actually seeing them anymore. After a few awkward moments of nothing except her shaking hands trying to figure out what she was supposed to be doing with the screwdriver she was holding, she made a decision, threw it down, and pivoted, glaring at him in the face again.

"Why do I throw wrenches at you all the time? Do you really want to know?"

Now Ed wasn't so sure, but his voice seemed to have run away, and he forgot he had a neck with which to make a physical response, eyes frozen wide and on her round face, lined by light gold strands, sapphire eyes focused on him, like they had always been, and for some reason, he suddenly remembered throwing her doll at her all those years ago.

And she plowed on.

"Because my parents left to do something wonderful, something to be proud of, but in the end, it cost them their lives. It meant that they will never come back to me. I lost them. Then all I had left was you and Al and Granny, and then you and Al left and wouldn't let me follow, and I never knew if you were coming back, and I was _terrified_. I was terrified because I knew people didn't always keep their promises, and they didn't always live just because they were doing something good, or just because they loved you. Sometimes you get left with nothing. I was _so _terrified, Ed, every _minute_ of every _day_, but you never cared to let me in on anything! And when you _did_ come back, when you _did_ contact me, it was only when you needed me to fix your automail, and I couldn't decide whether it was more or less frightening to know what you had been up to that would damage it that much. And you would only ask about me or talk to me if it was pounded into your head that you should, and that wasn't something I wanted to feel like I had to work for. Sometimes, you're an asshole."

She paused. Her stance widened, her fists clenched again, and her eyes continued boring into his, and her mind got knocked over and spilled.

"And I throw wrenches, Ed, because I hate feeling so angry and frightened all the time because of you, because I hate not knowing when and where and for how long I'm going to be alone, because I'll always tell you everything even though you never tell me anything, because I hate that talking things out matters so much more to me than it does to you, because I hate that it doesn't matter how much you hurt and worry me because I'll _always_ be there for you, I'll _always_ fix you, I'll _always_ care about you, I'll stay with you no matter how angry or scared I get, and _all _because I can't seem to help myself, and because it _hurts so much_ knowing—" She broke off, and her lip trembled, and Ed's heart caught in his throat, and then she continued. "It _hurts_ knowing that I'm the only one who's in love here." She closed her mouth, her mind working for a moment, but she finally crossed her arms and heaved a shuddering sigh. "There. I said it. So...." She picked up the nearest wrench and chucked it half-heartedly at him. He didn't even need to dodge it that time; her aim was very off.

Silence passed for what seemed like dozens of eternities. Breaths came slowly and melted soundlessly into the air. Ed gazed at her gazing at the floor. Her cheeks glowed pink, and sometimes a violent tremor ran through her arms.

"Win...." Edward finally managed.

She looked up at him then, waiting, but he said nothing more. She shook her head and chuckled darkly again. "You know what I hate the most right now, though?" she asked. Ed didn't even try to guess, so she went on. "I can't even cry. I promised you I wouldn't. Not until you and Al get your bodies back." Nevertheless, she wiped something away from her nose as she turned her back to him again. "And right now, I hate that I still even _want_ to keep that promise."

He still said nothing. He didn't move, he just stood there stunned like he had for the past eight minutes. After another two had gone by, Winry grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it sullenly toward her, sitting down in it as she resumed organizing her tools, now a mess from when she had been slamming them all over the place.

When she heard the door click shut minutes later, she froze, her heart having skipped three beats. Then she took a deep breath, laid her head in her forearms, noted how heavy and gray her eyelids felt, and wished she could sleep forever.

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**She doesn't run and hide—not literally or figuratively. I think Ed needed someone like that.  
**

**I couldn't decide if her rant was too much. I pared it down a bit from its original, but everything seemed important to me. Then again, I'm very much a details-oriented person. Possibly to an abnormal degree. -shrugs-  
**

**And I think it wouldn't be too far-off to speculate that at least part of the reason she throws wrenches is much the same reason why Ed might have stopped playing with her toys.**


	9. Because She Deserved Someone To Love Her

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**Author's note at the bottom. Here, at the top, consider everything disclaimed.**

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**Because She Deserved Someone To Love Her**

Now Ed sat against the wall next to his brother and asked him a second time, after having gone through all his memories in the flash of mere seconds and was still dumbfounded and perplexed—

"How did we get to this point?"

Alphonse was quiet for a moment. "You two have always drawn out some something in each other no one else did. Something important. Passion, maybe?" He contemplated that and decided that although it was an incomplete explanation, it was along the right track. Then he queried, "Why did you just walk away?"

Edward considered. He considered the memories, he considered her face, he considered himself, and the night suddenly felt much closer around him.

"Because I want to make her happy, but I keep making her cry. I've made her worry and cry so many times. It's all I _can_ do. From the beginning, she's always put us first, smiled for us, thrown her whole self into helping us.... She's always given us everything she had, but I've only ever been able to think of myself. I can't devote myself to making her happy. I'm not able to. I can't ever make her happy as long as I'm like this, but I don't know how to change or whether I ever will." For lack of ability to sink into the floor, he settled with digging his fingers into his scalp. "I didn't want to think about it, dammit! I _can't_ think about it. We have to get our bodies back, we have to save Amestris, and I can't make her happy." He shook his head. "I walked away because I _still_ don't want to think about it, and I didn't want to watch her hurt even more because of that. No matter what I do, Al, I hurt her." He smiled wryly. "You remember what Mom told us about love and marriage, right?" He heard the metallic sound of Al nodding. "I can't do that for her. That's not love." He chuckled sarcastically. "Maybe you should marry her after all."

Al sighed. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Brother. You're always blaming yourself too much. Besides, I'm past that now. She was only ever like an older sister to me." He laid one giant hand on his brother's shoulder. "Winry loves you. I bet she's loved you for a long time. And not because you're some perfect person, but because you're you."

Ed said nothing.

"Do you love her, Brother?" he probed softly.

More silence passed.

"Yes."

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**It's not so much that I think Ed is afraid of his feelings. It's a bit different than that. He's a teenaged boy, who are not known to have the best emotional confidence in the first place, and combined with having a crap tonne more on his plate than most other kids his age have to deal with, it doesn't surprise me that he's repeatedly shown that his greatest weakness is, in fact, his emotional confidence, or lack thereof. To me, the evidence is in the things he'll break down over, blame himself for, deny, and, in some aspects, even strive nobly for. And it's the sort of weakness most people face only when somebody kind of forces them to. This, too, is something I can relate to, from both personal and vicarious experiences. That's why I stand by this interpretation.**

**.... His recklessness probably rivals his lack of emotional confidence as his greatest weakness, though. At least I think so.  
**


	10. Because She Loved Him

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**Author's note at the bottom. Here, at the top, consider everything disclaimed.**

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**Because She Loved Him**

Winry lay seething in her bed. It was 4:32 a.m., and she hadn't slept at all. Her heart felt like stone, and she no longer cared whether she saw Ed ever again, and even wished it could be so. Or so she kept telling herself, but she knew that the moment her wish came true, she would fall apart.

Heaving a sigh, she forced herself up, blinking around the room tiredly. Wearing just her long, grease-stained t-shirt, she padded around, putting away her clothes, dusting off the tables and lamps. She briefly considered turning the lamps on but decided she was content with staying in the dark.

There was a knock on her door. She halted and stared at it in surprise. Then she glanced at the clock; it read 4:46. Who in the world would be at her room at this hour?

She threw on a pair of shorts to look a little more decent. Then she went to open the door. Edward stood in front of her, the area under his eyes looking slightly gray, dark gold hair matted and half-fallen from his braid, shoulders curving downwards, hands limp by his thighs. She gave a small gasp and found all her anger and sorrow was melting away rapidly.

"Ed?" she whispered, not for sensitivity toward those in the hotel who were still sleeping, but because it seemed all that was left of her voice. She resisted the urge to reach up and touch his face, to try to soothe away that exhausted expression. What should she do? Should she apologize for earlier? She had acted like such a nutcase, after all....

But after a moment of just standing there looking at her, Edward pulled her into his arms. One hand pushed her head into his shoulder as the other brought her torso against his.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry."

Winry stared at his chest from her vantage point on his shoulder, breaths slow and shallow until she felt sure that he really was holding her. At last, she hugged him back and said gently, "It's okay.... I'm sorry, too."

At that, Edward adjusted his arms so that they engulfed more of her body, and he squeezed just a little harder. She wondered—not too deeply or too long, though—how he had gotten so big so fast. After several moments, he leaned his head down to bury it in her shoulder.

"Someday," he said, though it was a bit muffled against her t-shirt.

"What?" Winry asked softly.

Edward raised his head to look her in the eye and laid his flesh hand against her cheek, his automail hand keeping its place against her hair. "Someday, I'll make you happy, okay?"

His eyes were the warmest and most heartbreakingly determined that Winry had ever seen them, even with the tired sadness that lined the irises and skin around them. She found herself nodding. "Okay," she affirmed.

He gathered her in his arms again and held her there. She relaxed against him, and they swayed slightly. Then, finally, he slowly released her and backed away.

"You should get some sleep. It's almost dawn," he said with a small smile that made her knees weak. He started to turn, then hesitated and looked at her with a kind of concern that she found endearing. "I'll see you later?"

"Yeah," Winry blinked to attention. "Of course." She glanced at his arm, dented and scratched in several places, and found a smile twitching on her lips as well. "A-Anyway, we still have to spruce up your arm, remember?"

"Yeah," Ed nodded with a smirk. He sighed. "Well, then.... See you later." With another smile and a wave, he strode down the hall toward the room he shared with Alphonse. Winry watched after him until she couldn't see him anymore.

She found herself unable to keep from smiling. At this point, although their lives had become intimately intertwined, they could not converge just yet; but she now felt that there was something wonderful to look forward to in taking their lives step by step, ever together toward the same goal, toward an ever-beckoning sea of stars not so unlike what she saw out her window just then....

When she finally returned to her bed and had settled herself snugly underneath the blankets, she saw that the sun was rising. For some reason, it made her feel rather giddy even while her body had suddenly remembered how tired it was. She fell asleep just as the sun's rays tapped her eyelashes.

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**Because there's no magical, shortcut version of overcoming this sort of thing, but there is always hope as long as there is realization and determination. And sometimes, it's more important to understand that than to dream that everything will be perfect right away simply because there is love. There's something beautiful about knowing that love isn't a panacea or an excuse for everything you want to do, but something much, much more grand. So much more grand than that. This is a very strong belief on my part. And I don't want to spoil it by explaining too much more about it, at least not here and now, in an author's note. ;)**

**Apologies to anyone who might have wanted a magical kiss. :\**

**Anyway, now that all is said and done, my final comments: **

**I think this whole thing turned out a lot more geared toward what Winry means to Edward, though I had meant to make it a combination of both. Oh, well. It just means I'll probably use another fan fiction to focus on what Edward means to Winry. Ha! Writing! It is so much fun. XD I also somehow turned it into omniscient third person, which is not what I normally do; I usually do limited third person, focusing on one character's mind at a time. Hmm. Maybe it's okay this time, though, to use a touch of omniscience.**

**I also tried to subtly hint at themes of sunlight and lines and use the last few chapters to tie together all the points made from each of the previous chapters, but I'm dissatisfied with how it came out. I think it needs to be tighter. I'll keep working on that, too, but suggestions are, of course, welcome.**

**Anyway, I wax long-winded. That happens sometimes.**

**Thanks for reading! Hope it was enjoyed to at least some degree. :)**


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